


Water Absorbed Cotton Balls

by ginnyginnie



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 16:15:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10597632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginnyginnie/pseuds/ginnyginnie
Summary: Who says love is the most beautiful thing on earth?





	

**Author's Note:**

> The original of this fic is in Vietnamese, and thanks Trang for helping me translate it.  
> The fic was inspired of this song https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VTOc05CJotU  
> Hope you enjoy reading it.

If only sadness was something visible and tangible, Seungkwan would frame it and hang it up on the wall, so when he walks around he could take a look at it, for fun (?)

The sixth day of December, the sunlight is not crispy gold enough and the air is getting more humid, Seungkwan sits on the sofa looking at the worn-out TV playing a local show, where the host singsongs in a Jeju accent. Outside his mother is talking to the neighbors, and her silvery laugh makes his heart wrenches so, so deeply.

Promise is something utterly magical, and pretty. _We’ll be like this when we got married, yeah? Yeah. And this, and that, too. That must be delightful. Yes, but I think we should be like this also, that would do. Yeah, yeah right I think so, too._ That “when” never got the chance to come true before “living together” starts to trigger quarrels. From the tiniest thing, like _why did you leave that cup over there, that’s not where the cups are supposed to be?_ Like _why do I always have to do the laundry while you are at home all day and I have to go out and earn money_.

Seungkwan still remembers when he tossed his movie transcript into Vernon’s face, “ To tell you Mister, I still make money while staying at home”, and remembers Vernon’s bursting jaw clenching at the moment.

 

_Listen so suddenly to someone from back then._

_Unhappy things are too much to remember._

_Out there the moon has risen and the wind blows so chilly._

 

Vernon likes to eat sweet potato, so Seungkwan usually buys home charcoal-grilled potatoes right in front of his office, puts them obliviously on the kitchen counter to turn around later and find only a few left. Vernon has this clumsy eating habit, always drops food bits all on the floor. Seungkwan meant to mention a few times but looking at the way Vernon savoring his food, Seungkwan swallows down those complaints. He then would clean them up quietly after Vernon has gone to watch TV or disappeared in to his work room.

Vernon likes to sing, even though he is not very good at it. He hums love songs in the shower, mumbles in his throat while waiting for the coffee water to boil. Seungkwan loves the most whenever he sings some pop songs, dancing ( or jerking) like a fool. But Seungkwan loves it because whenever Vernon catches his eyes, he would sing even louder and louder just to make Seungkwan laugh.

Vernon when he has just woken up he would daze off for a long time, just because his brain can’t process where he is at the moment. Seungkwan would then enter the bedroom after breakfast is ready, and Vernon would extend his arms like a kid demanding to be held. Seungkwan would ask “How old are you?”, and Vernon would only smile and bury his face in Seungkwan’s tummy, inhales deeply. A minute later he would be wide awake.

Vernon when he is drunk, would speak with honesty.

And sometimes Seungkwan wonders why there are both Chwe Vernon and alcohol in this world.

 

_Cold for the birds to fly home_

_Cold for the flower to shivers on the sidewalk_

_Then why long for a hopeless love_

 

Like an absorptive cotton ball holding on water forever without releasing, Seungkwan finds his pains accumulate gradually like a black cloud. Whenever it’s about to rain Seunkwan would inhale deeply, for a long while, and salty tears are kept back inside, safe and soundless.

“Why is the house so dirty?”

Drunk Vernon always has something to complain about, and the job he is doing always require constant meetings with business partners. Meetings lead to glasses to glasses. And contracts are signed. Swipe swipe. Money’s home.

But where is the love.

Seungkwan has always wanted to ask Vernon why they have to earn a lot of money, while they can’t even have a minute for each other. He has always wanted to reminisce about college time when they were both intertwined their hands together in their coats’ pocket, eating teokbokki on the side walk. Remember how innocent they were. Seungkwan has always wanted to remember times when Vernon sneaked into his dorm room at 2 in the morning just because he wanted to say “I miss you so damn much can I hug you just for once?”, and then left. Seungkwan is terrified of how distant those memories have become, like they are not even his. Not even theirs.

 

Seungkwan works as a columnist for a medium publisher, sometimes writes movie transcript. There are some movies that have been adapted from his work, but were not very successful. However it’s not like he is so broke that Vernon has to always hustle around to support the two of them. While Vernon’s reason for his business and drunkenness is just because that company is his family’s business. And he will have to manage it shortly later.

Seungkwan never knew if Vernon remembered what he said when he is drunk. The only known fact is that Vernon always has the headache pill that Seungkwan has left on their bed counter, and always extends his arms demanding for a hug like every other day. Seungkwan has stopped finding out about that long ago, like how people say that no one can wake up a person pretending to sleep. He is content with pretending to forget, like Vernon. If that makes both of them stop feeling like being stung in their heart.

Seungkwan often watches TV drama series. He watches almost every upcoming new ones. Seungkwan takes the habit of memorizing little lines, and has them bothered him inside. Like when Oh Hani asked Baek Seungjoo for a ring, Baek  asked for the reason and Oh said the ring is the evidence of love. And genius Baek smirks while replying, “ so it’s more like a chain”.

 

Seungkwan is usually bothered by tiny stuff that he keeps untold, and then gets upset about them. Sometimes they are not even his problems, but he is still upset. For example how the neighbor’s cat fell sick and hasn’t eaten for days. Like how the old lady who lives by the alley can’t walk anymore, rumors saying that she has not much time left. Like how the _hydrangea hortensia_ flowers on his balcony cannot bloom anymore, although having been watered constantly for two years now.

Like how Vernon comes home later and later, and he has stopped calling him ‘Seungkwanie’.

Thinking about it over and over again, Sengkwan still feels that being in love with each other is oh so simple. In college they sat near each other, passed down a pen or an eraser, covered up for the other to take a nap, shared parts to learn for exams, paired up together for an assignment and ran quickly to the professor, afraid that a second missed someone else would snatch their partners away.

Love is actually very simple. From assignments to dates, coffee to bubble tea. The seat behind becomes the seat next to, holding hands secretly under the table. Painting out a future with just the two of them, like this world doesn’t even matter, as long as you are there, and I am with you, and we are in the same place. Life has never felt so easy without any worries.

Until they are actually in the same place together.

No blades is sharper than tongues clicking. A slap would hurt less than one “Suit yourself.” A punch would pain less than two words “Who knows.” Sometimes a knife stab cannot hurt as much as three words “ You’re so annoying.” A cut would not bleed as much as a sentence “I’m very tired can you please silent for a bit.”

But Seungkwan still sees himself looking at Vernon using those invisible, deadly sharp things to cut him, in his utterly muted cry, in his sweetest pain.

 

* * *

 

 

It was a very cold winter night, Vernon came home at two in the morning, suitcase on his side, reeking of alcohol but still looking surprisingly sober. Seungkwan actually never thought that Vernon has ever been not sober.

Seungkwan said nothing, like usual. He waited for Vernon to come into the house then helped him lock the door. He didn’t ask why Vernon didn’t text or call him in advance. He also didn’t question the strange perfume hanging around Vernon when he passed by Seungkwan to sit down on the sofa.

 “Mom called in the morning.”

His voice sounded nothing like he was drunk. Vernon poured a glass of water from the bottle on the coffee table, held it up like holding a glass of alcohol. Seungkwan’s gaze was drawn to the way that hand holding the glass, painfully.

 “What did she say?”

Seungkwan asked, disconnected his eyes from the pink scar on Vernon’s finger. He walked into the kitchen, set the bowl and some food in the microwave and turned it on.

 “Like usual. Nothing much.”

Seungkwan heard Vernon replying from the living room. 2AM. The apartment block was dead silent. He could hear him word by word without raising his voice. Suddenly Seungkwan felt his stomach convulsing like something was eating from inside out. He set the food on a small platter and brought it to Vernon. Vernon still had that saccharine perfume smell on him that caused Seungkwan a headache. Seungkwan didn’t want to ask, nor needed to.

“Why haven’t you slept yet?”

Vernon stared at the platter without any emotion. His hand still hadn’t put down the glass of water to grab the chopsticks and pick up a piece of kimchi.

Seungkwan wanted to shout into Vernon’s face to ask him had he ever seen Seungkwan went to bed before him all those times Vernon came home late. But his cry suddenly silenced and shut down on its way from his stomach to his neck, completely stuck somewhere down his throat. Seungkwan could only open his mouth, and then closed it.

Vernon didn’t seem to care if Seungkwan replied. He was still looking at the steamy bowl of soup but didn’t cup his hand around it for warmth. His stomach growled but his mouth didn’t want any food, and that platter lay there, lonely and unmatched with the glamorous glass table.

 “Tired?”

Seungkwan asked suddenly. He sat down the sofa, looking ahead where the TV was turned off since 10pm after the drama had ended. Vernon blinked, startled because of the question. But he didn’t turn around.

Since when did looking at each other become so difficult?

“Just say it.”

Seungkwan soothed again, like he is coaxing a kid into exposing the bully in his class. Seungkwan’s voice was so mellow, like silk. Vernon’s eye lids suddenly weighed like a thousand pounds. Putting down his glass of water next to the tray, he laid back, closed his eyes.

He started talking, almost like sleep talking. He said father would make him take over the business for another year. He said there were many complicated stuffs at the company, which he didn’t give a damn. He said he disliked his own employees, who were a bunch of kiss-assers. He said he hated meeting business partners, but he enjoyed the alcohol.

He said this morning mother called again, asking why he had not thought about getting married yet. She asked if he was still with Seungkwan, and that he was the shame of the whole family. She said she had figured it all out for him, that there was this daughter of the Kim family, who was 20 and beautiful. She said she would arrange the date, like he was a raft that wherever she wanted him to go, he had to follow.

When the alcohol started to blend into the deepest, Vernon asked why Seungkwan was not like before. He asked why Seungkwan didn’t smile that often anymore, wondered why he’s so exhausted whenever he got home. He asked where Seungkwan’s problem was, why they could not accomplish what they had promised a long time ago. He asked why Seungkwan was always busy, why he always put all of his mind on the keyboard, why every little thing at home Vernon always had to take care of. Asked why the 25-year-old Seungkwan was so drastically different from the 21-year-old Seungkwan.

Vernon just closed his eyes and talked non-stop, and tears were running down from his tightly zipped eyes. Like being hypnotized, he poured everything that had been accumulated in his heart out, and then laughed sarcastically like it was a bad fortune that he had to take, like there was no other choice, that he chose this path by himself. Who was he got tired of, who was he cried for now.

 “I wished all the annoying things would go away.”

It was the last words that Vernon said before he crooked his neck to a side and fell asleep, eyelashes still drenched with tears like a pathetic prince from an old fairy tales. And Seungkwan who sat next to him didn’t have anything to match with that prince, who was breathing deeply and steadily in a black suit with a hint of the sweet yet strange fragrance scent.

Upon realizing that made Seungkwan’s heart sobbed uncontrollably.

Seungkwan came back to Jeju the next morning, after leaving Vernon two pancakes and a small note on the fridge door.

  _“It’s me who needs  to go away.”_

 

* * *

 

 

_Will kiss you longer and longer._

_Burn away all the doubts and pains._

 

The day was long and the sun shines blandly. Vernon opened his eyes at 7:30am sharp, like he didn’t sleep at all last night. The window curtain flapping in the freezing winter breeze. The window was not closed and that icy air invades the room, into his heart.

It’s been five days that Vernon woke up without the flip flapping sound on the floor, no tea-pouring sound, no water kettle whistling. No gas stove turned on, no TV drama sound. No wizzing sound of the washing machine, no click clack of the key board. 

It’s been five days since Vernon woke up without anyone to hold until he’s totally sober, no ready-to-go pancakes in the oven. No sliced kimchi in the fridge, no fruits in the basker on the dining table. No hanging clothes at the back yard, no notes on the bedside table. No singsong humming, not even a breath of the place he calls home.

It’s been five days since Vernon woke up and realized that Seungkwan has already gone, that Seungkwan has really gone and he’s not here to listen to Vernon’s complaints anymore. Vernon looks at both of his hands, contracts and flexes them like asking himself what he has done, with those hands.

Seungkwan’s hands are really soft, like cotton, and always warm. Holding them is like holding a little adoring happiness. Vernon loves rubbing lovingly Seungkwan’s fingers everytime he attentively watches a TV series, letting Vernon stroking them however he wants. Vernon would scribble some circles into Seungkwan’s palm, like the more he draws there will come a time when a real, tiny circle would appear, Vernon’s circle.

Seungkwan’s hair is so soft, like silk. Vernon always let Seungkwan rest his head on his thighs reading his book, then strokes Seungkwan’s hair. Sometime he would braid a small section, then chuckles when Seungkwan glares at him but never untangles the braid. Vernon always says that brunette suits Seungkwan the best, any shade of brown, but chestnut is the prettiest. And then he realizes that Seungkwan’s hair color has always been chestnut brown since then, changeless.

Seungkwan smells very nice, but not the smell of laundry detergent. Seungkwan smells really soft, like an old book, like a kid’s doodle picture, a romantic movie from long ago, and like a rose that grows in front of the lonely and cursed prince’s castle. Seungkwan trails a smell that Vernon cannot describe with all of his vocabulary, but Vernon knows that he loves burying his nose on Seungkwan’s neck, and take a deep, wholesome inhale.

Vernon sees himself floating in a clear crystal ball again, and the deafening silence makes his heart bleed.

He misses Seungkwan so much it hurts.

Like how when people have some flu pills and feel the drowsiness creeping up to them, his longing for Seungkwan slowly absorbs into Vernon like an infection bacteria. Not hungry but his stomach is queasy, not hurting but his heart is sobbing, and his brain’s stagnant and can not decipher anything clearly anymore. The longing vexes him like crazy, making him wanting to smash something to destroy the dead silence, making him wanting to shout to the world that he hates this hopelessness to death.

Then the silence is broken with a phone ring.

“Vernon? Do you have anything to do today? You wanna hang out with mom?” – The other side of the line sings the voice of the woman he loves the most, but also whom exhausts him the most – “ You must be free on the weekend right? I just made an appointment with the Kim’s daughter that I told you about the other day.”

Vernon let her talk, and lies down to listen. Twenty-five-year-old, a-quarter of a life, he wonders if he is living the life that he wants, Vernon looks up the ceiling full of neon star stickers that Seungkwan made him carry him of his shoulder and sticked them up on the first night that they moved in. He wonders why he has to live like this, like a puppy on a puppy show.

 

 

 “Vernon? Are you listening?”

In college, Vernon had always sketched a wonderful future. He would own an apartment, where there would be air-conditioner and heater, the fridge would always full of food, and on the kitchen table there would always be a fruit basket. Vernon would go to work and come back at five or six pm, would watch the afternoon news or reality shows. He would work at night, or read a book, and climb to bed at nine or ten. That beautiful future that he sketched out had Seungkwan.

There has always had Seungkwan.

And then he was tired of hundreds of things that the world has to offer, worn out with thousands of things to work on, then he brought all that exhaustion and put them on Seunkwan. Seungkwan, the one who didn’t have anything to be blamed. Is it why they say being in love and living together are two very different things? Is it how couples file a divorce? Is it because they don’t want to look at each other from those miscellaneous things, and then drift apart?

“Vernon? Vernon?”

 “I’m not going anywhere.”

Vernon replies, absolutely calms like he hads been thinking about it for so, so long.

 “And I’m not leaving Seungkwan.”

The other side breathes angrily, like his mother is about to fling the phone to the wall and smashes it into four pieces. Vernon blinks at the pillow next to him, the frozen side of the bed that for five days he has not dared to lie on, as if he was afraid that someone might come back and saw him not leaving them a spot to sleep. Vernon exhales a long breath, as if finally for the last twenty-five years he has realized such a simple and obvious thing.

“All I need is Seungkwan.”

 

* * *

 

_Will hold your precious body endearingly_

_Then soundly drift into dreamland_

 

This year’s winter in Jeju doesn’t snow, only endless of cutting cold raining. With his patchy memory from two years ago, Vernon found his way to Seungkwan’s house.

He isn’t sure how he knows Seungkwan has come back here, or because of the way Seungkwan always peels the tangerines that his family sent and puts them into a small box in the kitchen. Once, Vernon’s colleague came by one afternoon and the first sentence that he said was how lovely Vernon’s house smelled. He never consciously realized how his house smelled like, as if staying for too long that smell would eventually root into your hair and become the most natural thing. Until he came over to Mingyu’s house and smelled toasted bread, Seungcheol’s with laundry detergent, Soonyoung’s with the shampoo’s scent on Jihoon’s hair, and Minghao’s with old leaf’s smell, did he understand the unqiue scent of each household.

Afternoon in Jeju is strangely quiet, and the cold rain curtain makes the light emitted from those houses on the side road so strangely warm as well. Two years and this place is still the same. Still that long and narrow hill with houses cluttered closely, gates closed tightly and sometimes a puppy nose would poke out sniffling the air.

Vernon got his umbrella from a convenience store right where the taxi dropped him off, his shoes are soaking wet and his socks inside are also soaked and freezing to his toes. He stops in front of the house where a patch of purple flowers is thrashed by the rain. Two years ago he came here during the summer and didn’t know that the green patch would bloom someday later.

Vernon has stood in front of the gate for so long. Ten minutes maybe, just to look at the light emitted from inside the small cozy house. He grasps tightly to the umbrella cane with trembling hands, not because of the cold, but because he is afraid.

If Seungkwan won’t come back with him, where would he go to find another Seungkwan?

So how many Boo Seungkwans there are in this world who would stay with him for five and six years without a complaint, how many Boo Seungkwans who would make pancakes in the morning and heat the milk up with some coffee for Vernon, how many Boo Seungkwans who would peel the tangerines, meticulously peel the white veins and put the fruits into a bowl and bring them to Vernon’s working desk, how many Boo Seungkwans who would hang the clothes and always forget to clip them, and let them fly to the down floor.

There is only one Boo Seungkwan like that, and he is in the house in front of his face, after being spat in the face all the harshest words in the world from him.

The sky darkens. The dark blue envelops the hill and the light is shining on each raindrop that flows along the sloppy hill. Someone is walking up from there, a clear umbrella on their head. Venron asks himself if him standing in front of other’s house like this would look too suspicious.

 “Vernon?” – A young woman’s voice rings next to him. Vernon turns around and sees the girl looking at him with unblieveing eyes – “Long tim no see?”

It’s Seungkwan’s older sister.

 “Why don’t you come inside?”- She asks again, and Vernon’s throat stucks, clogging his words. He only looks down to the soaking shoes on his feet.

As if she has understood something, Seungkwan’s sister stops asking. She reaches out to unlock the gate and walks inside, turns back around to look at him, prompting to ask something but then decides not to. She goes inside the house and Vernon is still unable to look up from his shoes. Maybe this is a bad idea. Maybe he should not constantly hurt other people and then find his way to apologize to them. If apology can solve everything then why does Seungkwan always bites his lips to stop the sobbing hiccup after every time Vernon came home drunk.

“Vernon.”

He looks up instantly to see the person who just called him. After all these years and months and days, after countless times has he looked at Seungkwan like a burden, Seungkwan still uses that endearing voice, with that silky soft layer of harmony, to call him.

 “Seungkwan.” – He starts calling, like a sleepwalker - “Seungkwan.”

Seungkwan is taking the clear umbrealla that his sister just brought back, wearing a white turtle neck sweater with the flowery cotton pants and a pair of obnoxiously bright red socks. The road light shines on top of his head a warm orange, the orange of tangerines, the orange that Vernon has always said suited Seungkwan well.

Then Vernon realized that he does not know what to say to be able to bring Seungkwan back into his life.

An _“I Love You”_ would probably make Seungkwan laugh at him. An _“I Like You”_ would not be sufficient enough to express his feelings. An apology would probably make the gate shut right at his face. What can he do? What can do to hug Seungkwan in his embrace like how he has always do?

The more he exhausts his brain the clueless he is of what to say, and Seungkwan looks like he is going to stand there forever just to hear a word from Vernon.

And Vernon decides to say the thing he desires the most at this moment, the purpose of his long trip to be here.

 “Come back home.”

The three words being said feel like his last breathe was released. Vernon cannot even hold on to his umbrella. He drops it, steps one step forward into Seungkwan’s umbrella, and holds him.

 

_The end of my dream is you._

_The end of me is always you._

 

 “Can you come home with me? – Vernon asks, presses his face on Seungkwan’s neck, why does Seungkwan always smell that goodly tangerine scent – “ I am sorry, please? I’m sorry, all I need is you. I don’t need no one else. Seungkwan, will you please come back home with me? Don’t go away anymore, please?”

Then Venron realizes he is crying.

And that makes his tears run even more.

 “Seungkwan.” – He just calls Seungkwan’s name like that, once, then twice, calling while sobbing with his aching heart. As if these last few days he hasn’t lived at all, and now holding Seungkwan in his arms he can finally feel like a human being again, that knows how to cry, how to laugh, how to feel pain, how to be afraid of losing.

Seungkwan’s hand that was hanging on his hip suddenly lifts up, runs through Vernon’s hair, then ruffles his head. So endearingly, so soft, like how he always does it when Vernon is asleep on his laps. Vernon sees himself sobs with sound, hugs Seungkwan even tighter, and tighter, as if he losens a little bit Seungkwan would vanish into the tangerine scent on the dried peels that Vernon has left in their kitchen for the last five days though they no longer smell like anything.

 “Um.”

That’s all that Seungkwan replies.

And also everything that Vernon needs.

 

_Then kiss you my silent love_

_At the end of pain we compensate each other a shed of blue moonlight._

 

* * *

 

 

The last day in Seoul snow a lot.

It’s not such a big deal until Vernon has to work extra shifts until eight. He works for the family company but his father never lets him enjoy the benefits of a son, and that makes Vernon feels much more at ease every time he has to face his colleagues.

But extra shift is different. Extra shift means getting back home late, and he has someone waiting.

Sending a small text to Seungkwan, telling him to have dinner first if he is hungry, Vernon finishes up his reports with an empty stomach while the manager keeps wandering back and for telling him _“it’s okay you can bring those back home and work on them Vernon”_ with an even bigger impatience than Vernon wanting to go home. Vernon submits his reports at seven-thirty, running down the basement to fetch his car and turning the snow shield on. Thinking about arriving home and having an extra three off days makes Vernon have happy chills down his spine.

Entering the passcode of their apartment, the door opens with a plesant sound, Vernon walks in surrounded by food smell, tangerine scent and the warmth inside.

Seungkwan is crying on the sofa.

Vernon almost throws his briefcase aside and runs over to ask what happened, when he sees the TV playing a scene of a mother holding her son in a tiny apartment, the two are crying their eyes out. Seungkwan reaches his fingers for another tissue and blows his nose in it.

 “Oh my god.”

Vernon only smiles in relief and walks toward Seungkwan, sits down next to him and wipes the tears on the corner of Seungkwan’s eyes with his thumb, then chuckles.

 “Shut up.” – Seungkwan hisses, blows his nose again into the tissue – “They are so miserable do you even know? Twenty years now that they can see each other again.”

Vernon tries to hold in his laugh, losens the tie around his neck. He looks at Seungkwan’s tears running down nonstop like a broken faucet when the mother and son start to cry out loud again. When he cannot take it anymore, Vernon pulls Seungkwan over into his embrace.

He listens to Seungkwan hiccups to every sob in his chest, dishelved with tears everywhere on his face but still try to keep his eyes open to watch what happens next on the TV. Vernon laces his fingers with Seungkwan’s, perfectly fit like they were born to be each other’s.

Seungkwan suddenly cries out louder. The TV has already moved onto the scene where the mother chases away the child because she is too poor, telling him that his current family would take care of him better. Seungkwan cries while babbling something, looking very hurtful, and Vernon can only opens his mouth wiping away tears on Seungkwan’s face.

 “Shhhh…”  - He cooes, and Seungkwan turns around to snuggle into his chest, still crying.

 “Damn you… whoever,” – he hiccups – “…writes this kind… of… drama…!!”

Vernon chuckles, only wants to remind Seungkwan that he is also a transcript writer, but then seeing Seungkwan giving the TV the hatred look, he doesn’t utter a word.

 

_The flower with no name like your eyes._

_The love with no name like unpredictable sunshine._

_The happy song is singing keep your heart shining._

 

* * *

 

The last day of the year is very cold, and the snow still falls outside the window. Their apartment smells the light tangerine scent from either the peels in the kitchen or the box loaded with tangerines that Vernon and Seungkan brought back from Jeju the other day. Vernon rests his back on the sofa, looking at Seungkwan sobbing and rubbing his nose on the button on Vernon’s shirt, like the chubby orange cat at Wonwoo’s house.

With an empty stomach but doesn’t want to let go of Seungkwan and go to the kitchen to find something to eat, Vernon has a thought in his head, that maybe when Wonwoo’s cat goes to labor, he will ask him for a kitty, or maybe two, so Seungkwan can have friends when Vernon’s not home with him.

 

_Beautiful like the young moon of our love_

_Keep you steps strong on this challenging love path_

_Then every pain will then pass through._


End file.
